


rivers always reach the sea

by littleblacksubmarines



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 19:38:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16771555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblacksubmarines/pseuds/littleblacksubmarines
Summary: Michael is definitely not crying as he books a plane ticket to Chicago and drives himself to the airport.





	rivers always reach the sea

Michael is definitely not crying as he gets off the phone with Chris and Terry, he’s definitely not crying as he stands on his back porch texting Jason, and he is certainly not crying as he books a plane ticket to Chicago and drives himself to the airport. 

~

Just when Michael thinks he’s done crying, he gets off a plane in Chicago and there’s Jason Kipnis waiting for him, wrapping him in a hug, and Michael has never felt more at home in his life. 

“Jason,” Michael whimpered, hot tears spilling down his face. 

“It’s okay, babe,” Jason murmured, wiping a thumb across Michael’s cheek, “let’s get you home.”

So Michael lets Jason lead him through the airport with a gentle hand on the small of his back, and he supposes he should feel ridiculous about the whole thing, but he can’t bring himself to feel anything other than adoration for the man next to him. 

~

Once the two arrive back to Jason’s house, Michael stashes his suitcase and changes into a pair of sweatpants and one of Jason’s hoodies, padding out to the kitchen. 

“I’m making that chicken you like, and mashed potatoes, and gravy, and brownies because we need to eat our feelings,” Jason said from where he was peeling potatoes, not even turning to look at Michael. 

“You right,” Michael said, pulling out a seat at the island, “want any help?” 

“You can do the brownies if you want. I know you put caramel in them and it makes them so good,” Jason said fondly, turning to look at Michael. 

“I can do that,” Michael said, already slipping past Jason to grab a baking dish and the necessary ingredients. 

~ 

“What if I get traded?” Michael whispers into Jason’s back late at night, wrapped up in Jason’s ridiculously soft sheets, the Chicago light filtering in through the curtains. 

“Don’t think like that, babe,” Jason mumbled around a lump in his throat, the thought of being without Michael really fucking hurt, “Just think of us here and now.”  
Michael nodded, closing his eyes against the hot tears welling up, and kissed the spot between Jason’s shoulder blades.

~

“Wakey wakey, Dr. Smooth,” Jason said, pulling the curtains back to let the sunlight in and setting a cup of coffee on the table next to the bed, “we’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

Groaning, Michael stretched and pulled himself to a sitting position, letting the blankets pool around his waist. Reaching for his cup of coffee, Michael let his eyes wander over Jason, standing near the window shirtless, shorts resting low on defined hips. Jason is a piece of art, and Michael has to say something about it.

“You’re a fucking piece of art,” he mumbles around his coffee cup, earning a smile and slight flush from Jason, “a true masterpiece.”

“Stop,” Jason mumbled, unable to hide his blush, letting Michael take the cup of coffee from his hands and pull him down into bed.

~

“I think it’s all going to be okay,” Michael said a few days later, sitting at Jason’s kitchen island, mixing ingredients for cornbread together.

“Yeah?” Jason asked from the stove, where he was stirring a pot of chili.

“Yeah. It’s all going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere, you’re not going anywhere. It’s you and me, baby,” Michael said, nudging Jason with his hip.

Jason just smiled, pulling Michael in for a kiss. Maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. But Jason knew that he would have Michael for now, and no matter what happened, he would always have Michael in his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> fake fake fake, I own nothing here. I wrote this after seeing that Michael Brantley didn't get a qualifying offer but didn't finish it until now because I am garbage. Also please don't talk to me about this ever.
> 
> title from Ten Years Gone by Led Zeppelin. 
> 
> tumblr: @intoxicated-circulations


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